From a distance
by OCelia
Summary: Le myth: In an interview, JK Rowling once said that Draco behaved mean toward Hermione, because he liked her. Well here is my take on it. Enjoy. Rate, favorite and review. Oneshot


_A/N: So you know, there was this little myth (which I totally believe in) about Draco and Hermione and how he secretly liked her._

 _Welll... here is my take on it. Enjoy !_

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The first time I noticed her, she had a shrill voice. She was shrieking. She was mad. Her hair was everywhere. And she looked disgusted. I remember all that. How she pointed her little finger at him. How she was so angry. And how her eyes were lit. Her eyes were a warm brown and it looked as if sparks were flying around her.

Hermione. Granger.

That was her name. I was a little boy then. I did not know why I was looking at her all the time. Why my eyes were glued to her little, pretty face. I did not know why I felt the need to taunt her. Always.

She was always so feisty. She was strong. She was brave. And her hand was always first up in the air. So annoying, but still so endearing. Teachers, especially Snape, told her over and over again to not be so present. She persisted and she showed us all what a bright witch she was.

I remember how I came home the first Christmas. My father asked me about my grades. I told him I was second place. Behind her. He was disappointed. I could live with that. I was curious, though and the question just slipped out of my mouth.

"How is it possible that a mudblood is so magically strong?" I asked him. That was a was the first time I ever questioned blood in front of him. Afterwards, I never did that again. I learned my lesson. I buried her in my heart. And a cold face was always there, while my eyes secretly following her.

The first time I realized that I liked her was second year. She was petrified. I often snuck into the infirmary, just to check upon her. In the night, I would read her favourite book, "Hogwarts, a History," to her. She must have been very lonely without anyone to talk to, without any books around her. On weekends, I would tell her a recap of all the theories we learned. She never wanted to be behind, I figured, maybe this would help her.

On one of those nights, I kissed her. On the cheek. It is a kiss that I still remember till today.

Another fond memory was when she hit me in my face. Obviously, it hurt like hell. But the odd thing was it also sent shivers through my body. Instead of becoming mad, I was actually really impressed by her punch. She would give Goyle a run for her money. I nursed my little nose back to health with a spell, but I couldn't stop touching it. Long after, she had punched me. Just because she touched it, rather violently, with her hand.

I often couldn't help myself. I taunted her. Just so she would become furious. I knew we could never be together. Me being a pureblood, and she a mud-... a muggle-born. But the idea that at least one part of her could become so passionately mad to me, I loved it. I at least had some part of her.

The first time when I really wanted to break someone's neck was fourth year. Viktor Krum. He took her to the Yule ball. She was so beautiful. And she was not mine. He was not the one that I wanted to stab, as he made her smile. Nope, it was Ronald Weasley. He broke her fucking heart. Again. And again. (First time was when he asked her out, if you could call it asking out for the ball... I hexed him, "accidentally", afterwards.) It was her night to shine and she ended up sitting on the stairs, crying. Even when she was crying, she was still beautiful. Even when she was not strong, she still shone. (I hexed that bastard, "accidentally", again.)

Fifth year, I was a prefect. And she was too. I saw her often during the prefect meetings. One time, due to a last minute change, I patrolled the corridors with her at night. I already made her furious within the first two seconds. Sometimes, I wonder if it might be a gift. She decided that she didn't want to walk next to me. So, she quickened her pace and ignored me. For the rest of the night, we were silent. She was several steps in front of me. I was several steps behind her. I imagined that I was, because I was protecting her. I had her back.

Sixth year, I saw her dressed up at the Slughorn party. She was so beautiful. I ignored the fact that Scarhead was beside her. Or how McLaggen was ogling her. (He "accidentally" vomited later. On Snape's shoes. Oops.)

Seventh year. I don't remember a lot of that year. I obliviated myself, once, apparently. But I do not remember why. I wrote a letter to myself, stating I did something 'horrendous'. The parchment was half teared up. The writing was a mess. And a lot of blotched spots were there. All over the place. Possible tears, I assume. I cried while writing that.

Sometimes I wonder what happened and why I did that?

I may never know.

And now she is standing there. She kissed her little daughter and urged her to get on the Hogwarts Train. He slips his arm around her and pulls her close. She smiles warmly at him. She laughs at his jokes. He kisses her cheek. She blushes.

I see everything.

Always.

From a distance.

Fin.

 _If you liked it, please let me know!_


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